


In Death We Do Part

by marinaalexis



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-09 03:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11660919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marinaalexis/pseuds/marinaalexis
Summary: Three months have passed since that fateful night at the Lost Woods Resort, and life is finally getting back on track. But when Mona is released from Welby, it becomes evident that A.D.'s game is far from over. New secrets and old are about to come to light...and this time, no one is safe.(AU, OC-centric finale rewrite, sequel of sorts to "Sister, Sister."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry that I've basically fallen off of the planet in regards to updating "Sister, Sister." But since there are over seventy chapters of that fic and the story is completely published on FanFiction, I decided to just leave it up there for now. If anyone wants to continue reading that one (although it's not necessary to understand this), it can be found under my FanFiction profile, "Purpledino25" (don't laugh, I was young). 
> 
> As for this, this story came to me once my absolute disgust with the finale morphed into the desire to write a better one. So this is going to be as different as you can imagine. Different A.D., different timeline, completely different storyline. It picks up three months after 7x19 and is written in the perspective of Viola, Mona's sarcastic, stubborn younger sister. I hope you enjoy, and comments and feedback are always appreciated!

Chapter 1 

“Welcome to Welby State Psychiatric Hospital. How can I help you?”

 _Déjà vu,_ I think as I pull out my ID and slap it down on the marble countertop. The last time I stood in front of this desk, over five years ago, I never in a million years expected that I’d be back. I glance to my left, at the doorway leading into the room marked “Recreation.” When I was seventeen years old, I walked through those doors and confronted the person who forced me to hurt people, who locked me underground for months, and who tried to kill me on my junior prom night.

Even being back here is nauseating. But I have to remind myself that I’m not here under the same circumstances this time. I’m here under much happier ones.

“Hi,” I say, sliding my ID over to the receptionist. “My sister’s being released today, I’m picking her up.”

The receptionist plucks my license off of the table and holds it between her long, hot pink, obviously fake nails. She smiles and glances at me. “Viola, of course. I just have a few papers for you to sign and then you can head on back.”

I grin down at the paperwork that she slides in front of me. _WELBY STATE PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL: GUARDIAN RELEASE CONTRACT._ Since my mom moved to New Hampshire a few months ago to take care of my ailing grandfather, I was granted temporary conservatorship when Mona was evaluated and sent to Welby three months ago. Even though she’s being released today, I’ll have guardianship for a few more months, or at least until she can prove to the doctors that she’s capable of being a regular adult again.

I’m not so sure that will ever happen, but I’m trying to be positive.

I scan over the release forms and sign them eagerly. “Do you know where you’re going?” the receptionist asks once I’ve handed them back to her.

“Yes,” I reply, successfully keeping myself from scoffing. This place is basically my second home these days. I know the layout almost as well as I knew Radley’s.

I barge into room two-fourteen to find my sister sitting cross-legged on the bed, wearing the usual hospital gown and holding a small duffel bag. “I have real clothes!” I say in a sing-song, tossing a plastic bag containing a sweater and jeans onto the bed.

“This is really happening?” Mona asks, standing immediately. “You signed the release forms?”

  
“They’re being authorized as we speak,” I say cheerfully. “All you have to do is change and we’re out of here.”

“Thank God,” she says, and throws her arms around me. I blink in surprise and raise my arms to hug her back. “Thank you.”

I pull away, taken aback by the genuine sincerity in her tone. “You don’t have to thank me, I’m your sister,” I say, smiling awkwardly. “And right now I’m also basically your parent, so hurry up and change so we can leave.”

As Mona exchanges the flimsy hospital gown for the clothes I brought, I grab the suitcase from the corner and wheel it over to the door. Then I turn back and gaze around the small, dismal room. The lobby and recreation rooms are so light and airy, with comfortable furniture and wide-open space. But back in here, with the bars in front of the window and the metal-framed bed, if I squint I swear this could be Radley.

My sister sets the neatly folded hospital gown on the bed and grabs the duffel bag, and we head back down the hallway toward the lobby. “Your room’s all set up,” I say, referring to the former guestroom of my new, two bedroom apartment. “You can decorate it however you want, though, I don’t really care.”

“Oh, that’s the last thing on my mind right now,” Mona says lightly, and we pause to let a nurse and a young red-haired woman with large, glassy eyes cross the hall in front of us. The girl is holding the nurse’s arm with one hand and tapping a plastic walking stick in front of her with the other. The _click clack_ of the cane against the tile floor creates a strange echo effect.

Once they’ve passed I grab the suitcase handle again and keep walking, the front doors in view. I’ve only taken a few steps when I realize that I’m alone. Startled, I glance back and forth, then turn around. Mona is standing a few yards behind me, staring at the ground. Her face is ashen.

“Hey,” I call, leaving the suitcase and retracing my steps. “What’s wrong?”

She blinks and meets my eyes, looking kind of dazed. “Oh. Um, nothing, I guess I’m just still adjusting to this new dose of meds they put me on.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Wait, they’re still messing around with your meds? I thought – “

“It’s nothing major,” Mona says, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder and breezing past me. “Just trying to find the right balance. They’ll be monitoring it during my appointments.”

“Ah, yes,” I reply, pushing through the front doors and out into the fresh air, “the appointments.” Last week, during my previous visit, Mona gave me a list of all the appointments she has scheduled at Welby over the next few months. Therapy sessions, psychiatrist appointments, a few more tests…the calendar on my phone currently has more of her stuff on it than it does my own.

“Seriously, Vi, I feel bad that I’m going to be taking up such a big part of your life,” my sister says as we load her bags into the trunk of my car. There’s so much sincerity in her voice that it sounds almost false.

I wrinkle my nose at the exaggeration. “I’d hardly call telling you to get off your butt and get to your doctor’s appointment a big part of my life.” There’s a long pause, and when I glance over, she’s staring at me incredulously. “What?”

“I…I’m not allowed to drive, Viola,” she says slowly, shaking her head. “At least not until they get my meds completely figured out. I thought I mentioned that.”

She hadn’t. I take a step back from the car and the trunk falls closed with a sharp bang that makes us both flinch. “So I’m, um…I’m going to be driving you to all of your appointments and everything?” My mind flashes back to the full schedule on my calendar. Welby is twenty minutes away from my apartment. Even thinking about it sends all of the energy rushing from my body.

“Look, I know it’s a lot to ask,” Mona says once we’re in the car. “But right now you’re kind of…the only person I have.”

I close my eyes and drum my fingers against the steering wheel, trying to sort through a range of different emotions. “It’s fine, of course it’s fine,” I say finally, exhaling. “We’ll make it work.”

_Hopefully with a little help._

…

Three short knocks, that’s all it takes. Three little raps on the door right in front of me. I shouldn’t be so nervous about this, but my stomach has butterflies…or maybe wasps would be the more appropriate figure of speech.

 _Do it,_ I command myself sharply. Then I squeeze my eyes shut, reach out, and knock. I thankfully remember to open my eyes again before the door swings open.

I was fearing Caleb, but am relieved to see Hanna standing in front of me, even if the look on her face isn’t particularly welcoming. “Um, Viola…hey.”

“Hi,” I reply, forcing a smile. “Do you mind if…can I come in for a second?”

  
“Yeah,” Hanna says, looking taken aback. “Yeah, sure.” She steps aside with obvious reluctance, and I walk into the loft, gazing around. It looks exactly the same as it did three months ago. I want to ask her if Lucas knows she’s still living here, if he’s still _paying_ for this place, but now probably isn’t the best time.

Hanna shuts the door and turns to face me, crossing her arms. I open my mouth and suddenly blurt out, with no permission from my brain, “I saw you and Caleb the other day. Coming out of Lucky Leon’s. I was across the street and, um…you guys looked really happy together. I was so glad.”

She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Thanks. But I know that’s not what you came over here to tell me, so spill it.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I haven’t spoken to Hanna in over two months. I have no idea where her mind is, how she’s going to feel about this. “Mona was released from the hospital today,” I announce in a rush.

Hanna’s confused expression freezes, and the slight smirk she’d been giving me melts away. “I…I thought Dr. Sullivan said at least six months.”

“Originally,” I explain. “But last month she got kind of roughed up by some beast of a woman who used to be in a gang or something. And she was responding so well to the treatment by that point that the doctors agreed that outpatient care would be the best way to go.”

She sits down on the edge of the orange sofa, resting her elbows on her knees. “She didn’t tell me any of that,” she mutters, staring straight ahead like I’m not even in the room.

I move forward cautiously, perplexed. “What? Who’s ‘she,’ Mona? You’ve talked to her?” I wrack my brain, trying to think of a time when that could have happened.

Hanna looks back up at me. Her expression is defiant, but I can see the guilt in her eyes. “I’ve been visiting her,” she says loudly. “Since the very beginning.”

Once again I feel like I’m back in high school, learning that I was not the only person making frequent trips to Radley over the summer. My stomach hurts. I sink down onto the couch next to her. “Wait. No you haven’t.”

“Yeah, I have,” Hanna insists, sounding kind of annoyed, even though she’s the one dropping the bombshells, not me. “Practically every week. I asked Mona not to tell anyone, including you.”

I flinch, wrinkling my nose. This doesn’t make any sense. “Why didn’t you want me to know?”

“I didn’t want it getting back to my friends, okay?” she bursts out, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “They don’t care _why_ Mona killed Charlotte, just that she did. They think she’s dangerous.”

“They’re idiots,” I snap instinctively. She raises her eyebrows at me and I bite my lip. “Sorry. But I – I don’t understand. They saw her break down at the Lost Woods, they know what happened the night Charlotte died. They know it was freaking self-defense! What’s the deal?”

Hanna holds up her hands, getting up from the couch. “I don’t know, okay? But trust me, it’s better for everyone if they don’t know that I’ve been visiting her.” She looks me up and down. “So that’s it?”

Disappointment twinges at my gut at her sharp words. Years ago, Hanna was like family. She slept over at my house and let me hang out and read fashion magazines and talk about boys even when my sister clearly wanted me to leave. She bought me (or, okay, maybe stole) a little pearl necklace for my fifteenth birthday. She was the only one of the girls that I really felt close to, like I was more than just a rarely trusted source of information.

But by the way she’s looking at me now, like she could not be more uncomfortable having me in her apartment, it’s obvious that all that history means nothing.

That should really make me rethink what I came here to ask, but for some reason it just makes me even more determined. I stand up, square my shoulders, and say, “No, that’s not all. I actually have a…favor to ask you.”

Hanna pauses, staring at me. “What is it?” she asks, clearly irritated.

Even though annoyance seems to be her normal state of emotion these days, it’s hard not to take her attitude personally. “I just…I was wondering,” I begin shakily, clasping my hands behind my back, “if you would be willing to help me out with Mona. She’s got all these appointments at Welby, and she’s not allowed to drive, and I…I can’t do it all myself.” I picture my calendar again and fight the immediate exhaustion that follows.

The thinly veiled irritation on Hanna’s face falls away. She looks completely blank. Then she laughs incredulously and shakes her head, throwing open the front door. “No,” she says, and steps aside, a clear message for me to leave. “No way.”

But I’m not giving up that easily. “Come on,” I plead, not moving toward the door. “I’m not asking if she can move in with you. It’d just be a few hours out of your week at most, a doctor’s appointment or a therapy session, or…just whenever I can’t make it work.”

Hanna shakes her head again, but I can see sympathy begin to replace apathy, her eyes softening. I don’t know if it’s because of my obvious desperation or because she still has some love in her heart for my sister and myself, but I go with it, walking over and grabbing her hands. “Hanna, please. I know I’m putting you in a kind of weird place. But my mom’s out of the state and I have literally no one else to ask. No one else would do this. But I trust you, and I know Mona does too, even if you don’t trust her. You obviously still care, otherwise you wouldn’t have been sneaking into Welby. _Please._ ”

She closes her eyes and pulls her hands out of mine, folding her arms. I wait anxiously, my heart beating hard. If she says no, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t do all of this myself. I just can’t.

“Fine,” Hanna says after a long moment, and I’m so relieved my knees nearly give out. “I’ll do it. Just send me the schedule and I’ll tell you what works for me.”

“I will as soon as I get home,” I say, grinning. I want to hug her, but restrain myself, squeezing her arm instead. “God, Hanna, thank you so much. You’ve saving my life. I really owe you.”

“No,” she says, sounding genuine for the first time, “you don’t.” She opens the door wider, and I take the hint this time, stepping out into the hallway with a brief goodbye.

And maybe I’m seeing things, but I could swear that as she closes the door after me, she’s smiling.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Okay, that dress is five shades of hideous."

I laugh out loud. "It's a Hello Kitty themed wedding, what did you expect?" I smile at my sister and feel a rush of warmth. This is exactly what I missed for so long. We're sitting on opposites sides of the couch, our legs stretched out side by side, passing a bowl of popcorn back and forth while "Say Yes to the Dress" blares on the TV mounted on the opposing wall.

It feels like old times, before underground bunkers and crazy secret siblings and bodies being thrown from church bell towers.

A commercial comes on, and I mute the TV. "Have you taken your meds yet?"

Mona shifts, resting the side of her head against the back of the couch. "Not yet. They make me so tired that I don't take them until right before bed."

I settle the bowl of popcorn on my lap and wrinkle my nose. "Is that a good idea? Because the doctors I talked to seem to think that – "

"I've taken a lot of medications in my life, Viola. I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing."

And obviously none of them have ever worked too well, have they? I think, taken aback by the sharpness in her tone. But I bite my tongue. "Yeah, yeah, you're right, sorry." I shake the nearly empty bowl. "I'll make another batch."

I heave myself up from the couch and walk into the adjoined kitchen. I'm just pulling out a new package of microwave popcorn when the doorbell rings. My sister and I exchange a glance. "Did you invite someone over?" I ask.

She raises an eyebrow. "Like who? My psychiatrist?"

We stare at the door for a moment, and when nothing happens, I shrug and turn back to the microwave. "Someone probably just came to the wrong apartment. It happens all the time."

But a few seconds later the doorbell rings again, followed by several loud, brisk knocks. Feeling a strange sense of unease that I can't really explain, I set down the popcorn and walk over to open the door.

Alison stands at the other side, looking sufficiently awkward with her hands clasped in front of her. "Hi," she says quietly.

"Uh…" I blurt out, my mind blank, and whirl around. Mona is gone. I stare at the empty couch for a long moment, stunned. But I turn the other way and see that the door to her room is closed. She must have seen Alison at the door and gone to hide.

Lucky her.

"What are you – what…?" I stammer unintelligibly. I may not have spoken to Hanna in the last few months, but I haven't even seen Ali, aside from the one time I spotted her walking into the high school as I happened to be driving by. And now here she is, at my door? Something's up.

"I know this is kind of weird," she says with an embarrassed-sounding, almost apologetic laugh. "But it's kind of important. Can I come in?"

I almost slam the door in her face until I recognize the look in her eyes. It's the exact same look I had when I went to see Hanna yesterday, uncertainty and desperation and a little bit of hope. So I sigh, offer a thin smile, and gesture for her to enter.

"Go ahead and sit," I say, and take a seat back on the couch. Alison perches beside me, glancing around.

"Nice place," she says in a wavering voice.

"Thanks," I deadpan, something else occurring to me. "How did you get my new address?" I moved into this apartment, which is in the same building as my old one but a floor higher, last month. I gave out the new number to a short list of people, and she certainly wasn't one of them.

Ali lowers her eyes sheepishly. "Yesterday I told Hanna my phone died and asked if I could borrow hers. I found your address in her contacts."

She went through her friend's phone. Lovely. A little unnerved but unsurprised, I shift awkwardly on the couch, crossing and re-crossing my legs. Alison fidgets with her hands, not speaking. Her eyes flitter back and forth, not focusing on my face.

After a few unbearably long moments of this, I slap my hands on my knees and stand. "I can get you some coffee, or tea, or something." I laugh shortly. "You look like you could use a beer, but…" I gesture to her and then pat my stomach in a strange reference to her pregnancy. Wincing, I turn away and grab a glass from the cabinet above the sink.

"I lost the baby."

The glass slips from my hand. I gasp and stoop down, catching it inches before it shatters on the floor. "What?"

"I miscarried," Alison says, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. "A week and a half ago."

"Oh my – oh my God," I stutter, setting the glass down and walking back into the living room. I sink down onto the cushion beside her. "I'm so sorry. How far along…?"

She pauses, taking a breath. "About four and a half months."

I hadn't even realized you could miscarry that far along. "That's awful," I breathe, my own stomach aching. I can't even imagine. But something is still bothering me. "Um, don't take this the wrong way, but…I don't really understand why you came to tell me this. I really am sorry…but it's not like we're exactly…friends."

"I know," Alison says, nodding. She twists a delicate silver bracelet around her wrist. "We've never really been friends. That's exactly why I came to you first."

I raise my eyebrows, reeling back. "First? You mean…I'm the first person you've told?" My head is spinning. I wonder if I'm dreaming, or hallucinating, or if I accidentally took one of Mona's meds or something. I sneak a glance at the door to her bedroom. She's being suspiciously quiet in there – she probably has her ear pressed up to the door, listening.

Ali shifts, and finally meets my eyes. Her gaze is stronger. "Emily doesn't even know yet."

This would be the perfect time for a spit take, if I only had a drink in my hand. I'm not sure why that thought pops into my head, but I can't get it out, and I suddenly burst out laughing at the cartoonish image. Alison stares at me, so I try to explain my laughter without seeming insane. "You haven't – it's been a week and a half and you haven't even told Emily yet? Isn't she kind of…the other mother of this baby?"

The words come out harsher than intended, and I immediately feel bad. Alison lowers her head and pushes her hair behind her ear. "It's terrible, I know. I should have told her the second I found out. But I couldn't face her. Or any of them."

Suddenly this all makes a little more sense. "So you're telling me this first because we're not that close?" I clarify.

She shrugs, looking oddly vulnerable. "I needed to make sure I could get the words out. I thought you would be the right person to come to." She suddenly reaches out, grabbing my hands. "I don't hate you, Viola. I never have."

My skin itches. I very badly want to wrench my hands out of her grasp, but after what she just told me I feel powerless to do anything. "Um, thanks," I stammer. "I don't…I don't hate you, either. Anymore."

Alison lets out a breath and smiles. Then she shakes her head and pulls away, rolling her eyes. "This is so stupid," she mutters, wiping a tear out of the corner of her eye. "You must think I'm completely crazy."

I do, a little, but as much as I'm kind of freaked out by her behavior, her motive for coming here does make at least a little sense. This pregnancy has been anything but normal. As far as I know, she and Emily only officially made the decision to keep the baby a few months ago, after a lot of indecision and confusion. And now to lose the baby, after all of that? Of course it would feel nearly impossible to break that news to her friends, and especially to Emily.

I pause, my blood running cold. Do I actually feel sorry for Alison DiLaurentis? She has been buried alive, choked in her own living room, convicted of a murder that never happened, and years later imprisoned in a mental hospital by her psychopath husband, and I felt little more than a smug sense of karma that resulted in a little bit of guilt.

But this whole twisted pregnancy thing is way over the line. No one deserves that, not even someone who's done the awful things Ali has. And this miscarriage must be the icing on the cake.

"No, I get it," I assure her, leaning back against the couch. "Now that you've actually gotten the words out, maybe it'll be easier for you to say it again."

Ali gives me a slightly watery smile. "I doubt it. But I figured I'd give it a shot."

She stands, so I do too, placing an awkward hand on her arm for just a moment. "I'm sorry again," I say quietly. "But I think the sooner you tell someone, even if it's just Emily right now, the faster you can start to recover."

Alison flinches almost unnoticeably, but nods. "I think I'll tell her tonight…thank you, Viola."

"Yeah." I clasp my hands in front of me, rocking back on my heels. "Of course." I glance back at the closed bedroom door, considering informing her that my sister is home, but decide against it. This is the first genuine conversation I've ever had with Ali. And after what she just told me, now probably isn't the best time to drop the bomb that the person who killed her cousin – even unintentionally – is free again.

Besides, if Hanna hasn't broken the news yet, I'm sure she will soon. So I walk over to open the door, stepping aside. We exchange a smile, and Alison leaves without another word.

I shut the door feeling like a major part of my world just shifted. Ali's been my enemy for years, since I was in middle school, even. But now it's like a barrier has broken down between us, finally, even if it took a horrible event to make it happen.

I walk over and knock on the door of the old guestroom. "Mon? Ali's gone." There's no reply, so I try again, pounding a little harder. "Did you hear me? I said – "

The door swings open slowly under my touch, and I push inside. I freeze, letting out a gasp.

The room is empty. And the window is wide open, the thin beige curtains fluttering in the slight evening breeze.

I take a step back, banging my hip against the doorframe. "Oh God," I whisper, and bound back into the apartment's main room. I gaze around frantically, even though there's no way she could have slipped out of her room without me noticing.

Shit, I think wildly, spinning around in a circle. What the hell happened? Everything about this situation screams that something is wrong, very wrong. More than just wrong – A-like.

But A.D. has been gone for three months, right? If he or she or it was going to do something to my sister as revenge for killing Charlotte, why would they wait this long? And how would anything bad happen without Alison and me hearing, right on the other side of the door?

My stomach roiling, I sink down on the couch and grab my cell phone. With shaking fingers, I press the first two numbers of 911. I have no idea what I'm going to say, I'll probably just start with the fact that my unstable sister is missing, but before I can type in the last digit I hear the unmistakable sound of a key in the lock.

A moment later the door to the apartment swings open and Mona walks in. She smiles at me, looking completely unconcerned.

I leap up, tossing my phone down on the table. "What – where…where the hell were you?"

"Sorry, I just went for a walk," she says, looking at me strangely like I'm overreacting or something. "I figured I'd be back before you even noticed I was gone."

I look between her and the door to the bedroom, baffled. "You went for a…walk? How? I didn't even see you – "

"Oh, I didn't use the front door," she says, waving a hand dismissively. "I saw Ali at the door and did not feel like dealing with that. I used the fire escape."

My mouth drops open. I glance back into her bedroom, at the wide-open window. I'd completely forgotten that the fire escape is attached to that room. Suddenly the idea of that gives me an uneasy feeling. I wonder if I can somehow force the window to jam tomorrow without being too obvious about it.

I shake my head in awe. "So you…you decided to go for a walk, but you didn't want Alison to see you, so you snuck out the fire escape?"

Suddenly Mona looks worried, like it's just occurred to her that this is kind of strange. "Sorry, I should have told you where I was going. I just heard her voice, and…I needed to get some fresh air. I didn't know how long she was going to be here and I couldn't just sit in my room all night, trapped like some kind of – "

I hold up my hands. "Okay," I say, cutting her off just as I sense that she's about to get a little worked up. "Don't worry about it. Ali doesn't know you're home from Welby yet. I get why you wouldn't necessarily want to come face to face with her."

"What was she doing here?" my sister asks, sitting cautiously at the small kitchen table.

I fold my arms and lean my shoulder against the wall. "She wanted to run some news by me before she tells anyone she actually cares about, basically." When she merely raises an eyebrow curiously, I shrug and blurt out, "She lost the baby."

I'm expecting some amount of surprise, but Mona just narrows her eyes suspiciously. "At four and a half months?"

Of course she would remember exactly how far along Ali was. "Weird, right?" I ask, sitting down at the table as well. "But I guess it can happen."

"Hmm." She runs her finger absently along a groove in the wooden surface of the table. "So why exactly did Alison come to you for this heart to heart?"

I shrug again, folding my arms on the table. "Like I said, she told me first because we're not close. She wanted to make sure she could get the words out before she spills the beans to, like, Emily."

Mona looks like she's about to laugh, or at least smirk, but she composes herself and says, "This must be really hard for her."

"She looked…sad, I guess," I reply, glancing back toward the front door. "I don't know. She said it happened a week and a half ago but she still kind of seemed like she couldn't believe it."

"Really?" She wrinkles her nose. "That's kind of odd, don't you think?"

I reply with a noncommittal hum, sliding my silver ring up and down my finger. It is kind of odd. I haven't seen much of Alison since I returned to Rosewood last year, but it always seemed like her natural response to any kind of trauma or stress was to sit around crying and feeling sorry for herself. That's pretty far from how she was acting tonight.

But who am I to judge? I've never even come close to going through what she is right now.


	3. Chapter 3

"I know I don't have any actual, you know, experience, but I'm sure I could pick it up fast." I hurry after Ezra as he walks across the Brew and begins straightening the books on the shelf in the back of the room. "And I have a degree in social work so I have a lot of communication skills."

This is low, even for me. But it's recently occurred to me that I need a job. When I returned to Rosewood over a year ago, I thought it would just be for a few days, maybe a week at the most. I figured I'd testify at Charlotte's hearing and move on to Philadelphia, find a cheap apartment and a job as a social worker.

Up until now I've been able to get away with living off of college fund cash I didn't end up using – thank god for scholarships – and money from various investments that I made during my brief time as a business major. And okay, maybe a little help from my mother.

But my funds have made a sharp decline over the past few months, especially with my move into a larger apartment. And since I certainly can't expect my sister to get a job right now, it's up to me.

So here I am.

"I'm sorry, Viola," Ezra says very unapologetically, not meeting my eyes as he switches around a few books on the top shelf. "I'm just not so sure that's a good idea."

"Oh, come on," I urge, struggling to keep any hint of a whine out of my voice. Pleading for Hanna's help was one thing. But there is absolutely no way in hell I am going to beg Ezra Fitz to give me a job. "You haven't had any new help in here since Sabrina quit. And you're all wrapped up in wedding preparations…"

I trail off, noticing the slightly dark look that clouds his expression at the mention of the wedding. But a moment later it's gone and he turns to me fully, his face so neutral that I wonder if I imagined the look altogether.

"You have a degree," he says, his voice low. "Why are you applying for a job at a coffee shop?"

I shrug. "Because I only plan on staying in this town as long as I have to. And Rosewood doesn't exactly have the biggest job market for social workers." He continues to stare at me, clearly unconvinced, and suddenly my heart takes a dive. "Oh, God," I say, feeling anger flare up, "if this has to do with Mona and what happened with Charlotte, I really – "

Ezra holds up his hands, cutting me off. "No, no. Not at all," he insists, and I don't think I believe him until he goes on, his voice barely a whisper, "Actually, to be honest, I think she did us all a favor."

Something about the way he said it sends a chill up my spine. But I shake the bad feeling off and say, "So what's the problem, then?"

He shakes his head and stoops down to adjust a vase of flowers on the little table beside the big, cushiony couch. "I haven't really been having good luck keeping employees here. People tend to come aboard and work for a few months until something better comes along." His face darkens again, and I know he must be thinking of Sabrina. "And with you saying you don't plan on staying in Rosewood…"

"A year," I blurt out, a promise that I absolutely don't intend to keep. "I swear I'll stay for a year. With a month of advance notice before I leave."

Ezra looks down, thinking, and I fidget, hoping he's not going to ask for that promise in writing. But finally he nods, smiling distractedly. "Fine. Can you come in for barista training tomorrow at eight?"

"I'll be there!" I chirp without consulting my schedule. Hopefully my sister doesn't have any early morning appointments tomorrow. "You won't regret this, I swear."

"I hope not," Ezra mumbles, mostly to himself, and I make sure to turn fully away before I roll my eyes. I haven't even started this job yet and I can already tell that it's going to test me.

A familiar blonde head bobs through the door and I gasp at the sight of my former best friend. "Macy," I exclaim, keeping my voice down since this is, after all, my new place of employment. I rush over to her. "I didn't know you were back."

Macy smiles and brushes her side-swept bangs out of her face. She was technically scheduled to graduate from Hollis last year, but she decided to dedicate her last semester to going on a study abroad in France.

"Bonjour," she replies in an almost perfect accent, then laughs. "Four months in Marseille and that's still about all I can say."

"I doubt that," I reply. "I have a feeling total immersion does a lot more than listening to our old French teacher read straight from the textbook."

"It was pretty amazing," Macy admits. "France is incredible. Although now that I've experienced the world of baguettes and croissants I'm not sure I can go back." I laugh and she holds up a finger. "Just give me a sec."

I awkwardly fiddle with my phone as Macy orders coffee. A few minutes later we're sitting on the couch in the back of the Brew. Ezra is thankfully no longer in the vicinity.

I spend fifteen minutes oohing and ahhing over Macy's many photos of Marseille, Paris, and Nimes. Finally the sets her phone down and takes a long sip of coffee, giving me a thoughtful stare. "I thought you'd be long gone by the time I got back."

Macy's been gone for four months, I realize, flinching. She has no idea what happened, and I really don't want to have this conversation. But I know that she's going to find out eventually, so I take a deep breath and say, "Uh, yeah. So did I."

She wrinkles her brow, setting down her Styrofoam cup. "So what happened? Is everything okay?"

"No," I blurt out without thinking, and her eyes widen in concern. "I mean, yes, everything's fine now," I hastily backpedal. "Do you, um, do you remember when my sister was institutionalized? Between sophomore and junior year?"

"Yeah," Macy says slowly. She looks down, clearly trying to understand, and then her eyes light up with realization. She looks at me in horror. "Oh God, Viola."

"There was an…incident," I say in a low voice, leaning toward her so no nosy customers can overhear. As soon as the word leaves my mouth, my mind flashes back to that horrible, scary night. My sister having a nervous breakdown in the Two Crows diner and then vanishing without a trace. Getting that anxious call from Spencer and speeding to the Lost Woods to find her catatonic and disconnected from reality, dressed in glasses and clothes from so long ago.

Finding out that she killed Charlotte.

I so badly want to spill my guts to Macy, to cry and tell her everything instead of bottling it up like I have for three months. But she can't know the full truth about that night. No one can. No one outside of the eight people in that motel room who listened to Mona's story and made a promise to never say a word.

Apparently I've been silent for too long, thinking about all of this, because Macy shakes her head. There's a deep, worried crease between her eyebrows. "What do you mean by 'incident'? You're kind of starting to freak me out, Vi."

I wave my hands in front of myself quickly. "Don't freak out. She just had a little bit of a breakdown one night. She sort of…reverted back to her former self," I add, choosing my words carefully and trying not to give away too much. "You know, back when Alison bullied her. It was pretty scary, I mean, it happened in the middle of the night, but everything's completely fine now."

Macy nods, staring down at the dregs of coffee left in her cup. I can practically see the gears in her head turning as she takes all of this in. At last she looks up at me, her expression quizzical. "So why does all of that mean you have to stay in Rosewood? Where is she now?"

I force a smile. "She was released from Welby Hospital a few days ago. She has to stay in town for outpatient treatment and since I have temporary guardianship, I can't leave either."

There was a time, back in high school, when she would tilt her head, not understanding, and I would have to go through a big explanation of what guardianship means, and probably even outpatient treatment, too. But apparently college and traveling to Europe have changed her, because she just gives me a nod of comprehension and says, "God, that's just…crazy." She gasps a little and puts a hand to her throat. "Oh, um, sorry, is that word, like…offensive?"

"Maybe a little," I admit, smiling. "But don't worry about it."

"It's just so hard to believe," Macy goes on, biting her lip. "I mean, whenever I think of Mona I still picture the super-popular girl who took Alison's place and basically ignored me whenever I spent the night at your house."

I roll my eyes, smirking. "I know. She's gone through so much since then, that girl almost feels like a different person."

I meant it in a joking way, but my voice cracks on the last word. I clear my throat uncomfortably and Macy scoots closer, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Listen. I know I wasn't the best friend to you when your sister had her…breakdown, I guess, in high school. But I want things to be different this time around. I'm going to be living here with my parents for a few months while I look for a job. I want you to know that I'm here for you, and Mona."

Her words are so genuine that I actually feel tears rush to my eyes. I blink them back, embarrassed. If only we'd had this conversation a few days ago, before I was forced to beg Hanna to help me.

Just as I'm opening my mouth to thank her, Macy's phone chimes, and she glances down at it and lets out a little scream. I jump, startled. "What is it?"

"Oh my God, this is perfect!" she squeals. "This is just what you need right now!"

Her words aren't sarcastic, but they make me nervous nonetheless. "W-what are you talking about?"

My old best friend sets her phone down and claps her hands. "My cousin is coming to town this weekend, and he's bringing his best friend from high school. This guy is incredible, Viola."

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh? You know him?"

"Well, no," Macy admits, winking. "Fine. His looks are incredible. And he went to Penn for undergrad so he must be smart, too."

"Okay," I say slowly, leaning back and crossing my arms. "Lucky you, then. But what exactly does this have to do with me?"

She waves her hand dismissively. "Oh, he's totally not my type. But the three of us are going to dinner at the Grille on Saturday night. My cousin and I have a lot to catch up on, and I'd hate for Corey to feel out of place."

Oh. I see where she's going with this, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. "So…you want me to come along and double date with you and…your cousin?"  
Macy smacks me on the arm, laughing. "Ew! Don't put it like that. I just think four is such a nice, rounded number for a night out. No awkwardness, no one left as the third wheel. And," she adds, leaning toward me, "I know for a fact that he's single."

I press my lips together and shake my head, my stomach already churning with nerves at just the thought of it. "I don't think so, Macy. That's sweet, but I'm not really interested in a relationship right now. I kind of have a lot going on."

"Who said anything about a relationship?" she insists, a little too loudly. "It's just dinner! What you need is a little bit of fun. It's not like you're marrying the guy."

I haven't had a date in over a year. And I've never been on a blind date in my life. I twist a strand of hair around my finger nervously. Can I really do this right now?

But on second thought, what do I have to lose? She's right – it's just one dinner. If I hate the guy, he'll leave once the weekend's over and I'll never have to see him again. It's not like I have anything resting on this.

So I sigh and relent. "I just got a new job," I say, conveniently leaving out the fact that my place of employment is, in fact, right where we're sitting, "so I'll have to see if I'm scheduled to work that night. But if I'm not I guess I can make it work."

Macy grins and grabs my arm. "Yes! This is going to be so great. Just like old times."

Old times, I think, smiling back at her as brightly as I can. That feels like the phrase of the week.


	4. Chapter 4

The feeling of foreboding hits me as I'm walking up the stairs of my apartment building. It's like a punch to the gut, so intense and sudden that I fumble with the grocery bags I'm holding.

Breathing hard, I lean my back against the wall and close my eyes. I developed anxiety after my junior prom night, once Charlotte was locked away, but I haven't had a panic attack in at least three years. And I can't remember ever having one that feels like this.

Because this isn't blind panic…it's a strange, dark feeling of dread.

Once I compose myself, I run the rest of the way up the stairs and down the hallway, the heavy bags bumping against my hip. I turn the corner and freeze.

The door to my apartment is wide open. Looking closer, it appears that the lock hasn't merely been picked – it's been completely broken.

My blood runs cold, and before I've stopped to think about it, I let out a string of curse words, drop the grocery bags on the ground, and rush inside, where I immediately stop short for a second time.

It's a mess.

The big plant by the back window has been overturned, and dirt is smeared across the floor. The fridge door is open, and the carton of milk is lying on its side, the last of its contents dripping onto an expansive puddle. Every curtain rod is halfway pulled down, and various pillows and knickknacks have been strewn around the room, some things broken, others just misplaced. I peer quickly into the bedrooms to find them both in a similar state.

I stumble back into the living room, gazing around in horror. Sometime during the forty-five minutes that I was at the store, someone broke into my apartment. But my hasty search reveals that nothing seems to have been stolen.

I sink down onto the couch, shaking my head in disbelief. Why would someone break in only to wreck the place without even taking anything? My laptop is still sitting untouched on my bedside table. Nothing is missing from my jewelry box. The extra cash that I keep in a box on the top shelf of my closet is all accounted for. Nothing about this makes any sense.

And then I remember: I'm not the only person who lives here.

I rip my phone out of my purse and dial, my leg jiggling nervously. "Hey," Mona answers after an endless amount of rings, and I'm so relieved that my vision blurs for a second. "What's going on?"

Despite my brief reprieve from panic, my heart is still pounding. "Where are you?" I ask sharply.

There's a long pause, and I'm just starting to freak myself out again when she replies in obvious confusion, "On my way home from Welby with Hanna. We'll be back in about fifteen minutes."

"Ah," I say with a fresh wave of alarm, gazing around my trashed apartment again as a new problem hits me. Mona's been doing so well since she got out of the hospital last week, but I really have no idea how stable her new, seemingly healthy state of mind is. Something like this could really set her back, and I am so not prepared to deal with another breakdown.

"Um," I stammer, my mind spinning, "do you think you could…maybe spend the afternoon at Hanna's? Just, you know, a couple hours?"  
I can practically see my sister making a face. "Why?"

My eyes flit around the room, desperate to find an excuse that can fool the best liar I know. I focus on the puddle of milk on the floor in front of the refrigerator. It's started to spread, and some of the milk has dampened a bit of the adjoining living room carpet.

Bingo. "I, um, I totally forgot to tell you, but I have carpet cleaners coming. They'll be here any minute and since the apartment's so small, I don't want to, uh, get in their way. I'm heading out as soon as they get here, I just wanted to give you a heads up."

"Oh," Mona says, and I wince at the note of suspicion in her tone. I sit silently, listening to the muffled voices on the other end of the phone until she finally gets back on the line. "Yep, it's all good. Let me know when they're done and Hanna will drop me off."

"Cool," I breathe, sinking back into the couch. "See you later." I hang up and toss my phone down with a sigh. At least there's one good thing coming from this – my sister seems to be rebuilding her friendship with Hanna.

But that doesn't exactly help me right now.

I gaze around the remains of my apartment one more time before taking a deep breath and forcing myself to my feet. If I want to get all of this cleaned up in just a few hours, I'd better start now.

After dealing with the puddle of milk on the floor, I turn to the mangled curtains. Even though the rod is halfway detached, the curtains themselves are still pulled shut, concealing most of the window. Standing on tiptoe, I fasten the rod back in place, then grab hold of the drapes and pull them apart.

Instead of the unconcealed view of the tops of the trees and the redbrick building next-door, bright red writing greets me. I gasp and leap back, staring at the message scrawled across the glass.

YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS OVER?

There's no identifying signature, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out who this is from. I stumble backward, tripping on the coffee table and grabbing onto the edge of the couch to steady myself. My eyes scan the five words over and over again, frantically trying to come up with an alternate explanation for this, but I come up empty.

The apartment that I now share with my sister has been wrecked. Nothing has been stolen. And this message seems to be the grand finale.

Without bothering to clean up the rest of the mess, I grab my purse and rush out the door.

…

"Whoa, Viola, back up and pause. What exactly did you find?"

Spencer's giving me a look like she thinks I'm absolutely crazy, but it's too late to stop now. I glance around the room, meeting the eyes of her, Aria, Emily, and Alison individually, before replying, "My apartment was trashed when I got home. And there was a…message, I guess, written on the window. Although it was more like a threat."

Emily's brow furrows. "What did it say?"

I relay the words to them, and the four girls exchange glances. When I arrived at Spencer's house and asked her to invite all of the others, minus Hanna, over for an important discussion, she didn't seem to believe that I had anything significant to say. But now there's no mistaking the conflicted emotions on her face.

"So what are you saying?" Aria asks, her voice high-pitched with nervousness. "You think A.D.'s…back?"

I shrug, sinking down onto the arm of the sofa and crossing my arms. "I don't see who else would have done this. Nothing was stolen. And it felt like the message on the window was the point of the whole thing."

"I don't understand," Alison says. She puts her hands on her stomach protectively, and I raise my eyebrows but don't comment. It must just be a force of habit. "A.D.'s been gone for three months. Why would they suddenly start the game again?"

"Whoa, okay," Spencer says sharply, holding up her hands. Her eyes are wide. "Can we not just jump to conclusions?" She turns to me. "The message wasn't signed, right? That means we have no idea who did this. Maybe somebody was just trying to mess with you."

"Like who?" I cry, leaping up from the arm of the couch. "This has A written all over it. Think about it." I pace along the edge of the rug, unable to keep still as the gravity of the situation begins to sink in. "A.D. made you guys play the game in the first place because they were trying to find out who killed Charlotte. Then Mona confesses and we're just supposed to believe that this person was happy to drive off and never do anything about it? This message wasn't for me, you guys, it was for my sister. Mona's out of Welby, and A.D. is back, and they want revenge."

I'd never actually thought about that before, but as the words are leaving my mouth I know they're true. Back when Hanna falsely confessed to murdering Charlotte, A.D. kidnapped her and tortured her with a cattle prod in a shed until she was able to escape. I was insane to think that A.D. would leave town for good after Mona admitted what she'd done. We all were.

My chest tightens with panic and I'm taking in a breath to go on when Aria puts a hand on my arm. "Hey, calm down, okay?" she says kindly. "You don't know that."

"I mean, it makes sense," Emily says, and I wince. " 'You thought this was over'?" We all thought A.D. was gone for good."

I knew as much, but hearing someone else confirm my fear makes it seem so much more serious. "Oh, God," I groan, wrapping my arms around myself. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Where's Mona now?" Ali asks, looking surprisingly concerned.

"With Hanna," I answer. "She doesn't know about this, and I want to keep it that way. You guys can tell Hanna when you see her, that's fine, but the last thing I want is my sister spiraling back into some dissociative episode."

Spencer shifts uncomfortably, exchanging a glance with Aria. "Are you sure that's such a good idea? If someone really is out to get her, don't you think she should know about it?"

That's a good point. I stop pacing and lean against the wall, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I don't…I don't know, okay? I guess I'll figure it out. I just thought the rest of you should know since…well, you were who A.D. was going after before. You might not be safe, either."

The girls frown uncomfortably, fidgeting. "Thanks," Aria murmurs, giving me a shaky smile. "I'm glad you told us."

"Yeah," Spencer adds as the others mumble their agreement. "Just…be alert, but don't worry too much about it yet, alright? It still might be nothing."

I feel like that's major wishful thinking, but nod and check my watch. "Right. Well, I've only got a few hours to clean up my entire apartment, so I should probably go."

"Okay," Spencer says, and smiles at me awkwardly before turning to her friends. "Does anyone else want some coffee or anything?"

"We should probably go too," Emily replies, touching Alison's arm as I hitch my purse higher on my shoulder and start for the door. "We'd been talking about getting some last minute things done for the nursery today."

What? I freeze in the doorway to the great room, sure I heard incorrectly. I glance over my shoulder just in time to see Alison smile and pat her stomach, saying to Spencer and Aria, "I keep telling her we have plenty of time, but…"

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with wanting to be prepared," Emily says, grinning giddily at her.

Maybe I really am losing it. Hallucinating, or something. I stare, open-mouthed, as Emily and Ali brush past me to the door. I rush after them a few moments later, following them outside. "Hey," I whisper to Ali, grabbing her arm as Emily gets into the car. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," she says, moving closer to the house. "What's up?" Her tone is light, her expression oblivious, but her eyes are hard.

"What the hell is going on?" I snap, keeping my voice low. "Why does everyone still think you're pregnant?"

Alison huffs and takes a step back, crossing her arms. Her posture straightens defensively. "That's none of your business."

"Um, I'm pretty sure it became my business the second you came into my home and announced your miscarriage," I hiss, shaking my head in disbelief. "You haven't been pregnant for almost three weeks and you're still letting Emily fantasize and decorate the nursery? How could you do this to her?"

For just a split second, I swear I see something pass through her eyes. Amusement, maybe? But I blink and it's gone, and I wonder if I'm just seeing what I want to see, if my bad memories are clouding my perception.

"I will tell her," Ali says finally, through clenched teeth. "You don't know how hard this is for me."

A week and a half ago I'd sympathized with this attitude. But maybe it's because my apartment was recently destroyed or maybe because I thought we were all done with the lying, but my pity has dried up. "Maybe not," I say quietly. "But I do think I know how hard it's going to be for Emily when she finds out that you're not only no longer having her baby, but that you've been lying to her about it for weeks."

Alison's face pales. She presses her lips together in a thin line. "She's never going to have to know that I lied. I know you would never say anything."

Once upon a time that might have been a risky statement to make. But she's right. After Charlotte I promised myself that I would stop meddling with other people's business, getting involved in drama.

Fortunately, this time I don't have to. "Well," I say with a smile, stepping closer, "I'm pretty sure most people don't suddenly miscarry at eight months pregnant, so you'd better pull yourself together and get the words out before it's too late."

My hands shaking, I spin around and stalk away, leaving her standing nervously behind me. But as I get into my own car and pull out of Spencer's driveway, I force the situation out of my head.

I have problems of my own to deal with…starting with scrubbing a threat off of my living room window.


	5. Chapter 5

Can you develop restless leg syndrome later in life?

I've never really thought about it, but as I sit alone at a table for four in the back of the Grille, my leg is jiggling so forcefully that I'm worried it's going to send me toppling right out of my seat.

It's a nervous habit, something I've done since high school. When I'm anxious, I can't sit still. And I have plenty to be anxious about tonight.

First of all, A.D. is back. The girls might not be convinced, but I know what I saw, and what happened to my apartment had A written all over it. I'm terrified for my sister, and I've done everything possible over the last few days to make sure she doesn't find out until I'm ready to tell her.

She's suspicious, though, I can tell. I vacuumed the carpet until my arms ached before she got home that day to make it look like the carpet cleaners had been by, but I'm not quite sure I pulled it off. And when she asked why half of the food was gone from the fridge, I couldn't exactly explain that a psychopath had left it open for a good part of the morning, so I stammered out some lame excuse about going on a cleaning binge and getting rid of anything even nearing its expiration date.

She seemed to buy it. But if I know Mona, I know that the second she gets even the slightest bit skeptical, she will stop at nothing to find out what's really going on.

So I need to figure out how to tell her the truth.

But right now I need to figure out how I'm going to survive this date.

A flash of blond hair catches my eye, and a moment later Macy appears beside the table, beaming as she reaches down and hugs me. "Hey!" she exclaims, then whispers in my ear, "I was worried you weren't going to show up."

"I wouldn't do that," I mutter back, even though it did cross my mind a few dozen times today. Then, steeling myself, I stand and face the two guys beside her.

One is tall and skinny as a stick, the spitting image of Macy except that his eyes are a darker brown and his face is slightly rounder. The other, Corey, I assume, is only a few inches taller than me, but with thick dark hair, bright green eyes, and arms that I can tell are strong even underneath the button-down he's wearing, he definitely fits Macy's description from the other day.

"Viola," Macy says excitedly, giving me a little nudge, "this is my cousin Michael, and this is Corey. Guys, this is Viola. We were best friends in high school."

That's a bit inaccurate, but I smile anyway and hold out my hand to Corey. "Hi, it's nice to meet you. Macy told me you studied at Penn?"

"Damn right I did," he replies, his voice booming, and grins as he takes a seat at the table. What kind of answer is that? I flinch, meeting Macy's gaze with wide eyes, but she just gives me an encouraging nod as she and her cousin sit down as well.

I take a deep breath and lower myself into the chair beside Corey, beginning to wonder just what I've gotten myself into. "In the top ten universities in the country," he goes on, raising his hand to flag down a server.

"I, um, I thought about applying to Penn," I blurt out, fiddling with my napkin. "But I ultimately decided I wanted to move out of state for a while." I pause, and when he only nods, I answer the unasked question. "I went to Oberlin."

"Ah, beautiful campus," Michael chimes in from across the table. "I toured there myself, in high school."

"Viola's going into social work," Macy says loudly, giving me a conspiratorial smile. I roll my eyes discreetly, wishing she wasn't trying so hard to play matchmaker.

"Going into?" Corey asks, raising an eyebrow. "No luck scoring a job yet?"

"It's been a bit of a rough year," I mutter, and am just about to ask Mr. Smartypants what he does for a living when our waitress appears to take our drink orders.

Macy and Michael both order from the wine list, and Corey asks for a gin and tonic. When the waitress looks at me, last, I smile and say, "Just water's fine, thanks."

Corey glances at me, almost dismissively. "Can't say I've seen many twenty-four year olds willing to pass up an opportunity to knock one back."

I sit back in my seat, completely disenchanted. What the hell is this guy's problem? The first word out of his mouth to me was a curse, he openly judged my career – or lack of one, I suppose – and now he's criticizing my drink order? And now he, Macy, and her cousin are all looking at me, clearly intrigued.

I really don't want to get into it, but I'm far too exhausted already to come up with an excuse, so I sigh and say, "My, uh, my sister can't have alcohol, so I…I'm trying to do the same."

Macy rolls her eyes dramatically. "Oh, come on, Viola. Mona isn't even here. Let yourself live for once!"

I give her a look, feeling the fury begin to build, and Michael leans forward, his elbows on the table. "Just out of curiosity, why can't she drink? Some kind of allergy?"

"No," I reply, because now that I'm this far in I might as well go all the way. Besides, if I don't tell them now, it's only a matter of time before Macy blurts it out, and she's not exactly the most sensitive storyteller on the planet. "She…" I lower my voice, glancing around to make sure I don't recognize any of the diners around us. "She had a sort of mental breakdown a few months ago. No alcohol for at least six months, doctor's orders."

"Mental breakdown," Corey muses, leaning back in his seat and folding his arms. He gives me a long look for the first time since we sat down. "Fascinating. So…what's wrong with her? Schizophrenia? A buddy of mine in the dorms – "

"A personality disorder," I cut him off coolly. The waitress returns with our drinks, and I lift my water glass to my mouth immediately, taking a long sip as I try to regain my composure. Everything about this jerk reminds me of the clueless, arrogant boys in high school. I thought that everyone got over that stage somewhere between college and an actual career, but apparently I was mistaken, because there's living proof sitting right beside me that some people just never get over themselves.

"Can't say I have much experience in the way of those types of diseases," Corey goes on loudly, and I can't help but smirk at his ability to turn every conversation back to himself. I glance at Macy again, and this time the smile she gives me in return is a bit more apologetic. "But then again, mental disorders aren't my specialty."

"Oh?" I ask, my gaze fixed on the menu in front of me. "And what is your specialty?"

"Cardiology." He takes a gulp of his drink and sets it down hard. "But it's funny you should ask. I actually have a big announcement to make."

Michael frowns. "What's going on, man?"

I shift uncomfortably, looking around impatiently for the waitress to reappear and take our orders. I have no idea what I want to eat, my appetite flew right out the window somewhere around the "what's wrong with her" comment, but the sooner we get our food, the sooner I can get the hell out of this disastrous date.

"I've been transferred," Corey declares, and I cross my fingers under the table, praying for his next word to be Alaska, or maybe Moscow. He clears his throat and shoots me a toothy grin. "To Rosewood Community Hospital."

My heart lurches. I nearly gasp, but manage to hide it with a cough, turning away until I get my bearings. "Really?" Michael says, nodding. "I've heard great things about the hospital here. Congrats." He lifts his wine glass in a congratulatory gesture.

"I like what I've seen of this town so far," Corey agrees, and I seriously hope he's not talking about me. I refuse to look his way, just in case. "And I'll be working closely with another new transfer."

"Oh, that's nice," Macy pipes up, her tone light. "Where's he coming from?"

"Somewhere international," he responds with a wave of his hand. "London, maybe? Dr. Kingston. He's got a weird first name, God, what is it…some kind of bird or something."

My head snaps up, and all three of them look at me, clearly startled by my reaction. London. Kingston. Named after a bird. Can one statement really contain that many coincidences? "Um, Wren?" I blurt out, breathless. "Wren Kingston?"

Corey picks up his fork and points it at me. "That's it."

Macy tilts her head, frowning. "That name sounds really…wait. He used to live here, didn't he? Didn't he date Spencer Hastings' older sister?"

And also Spencer herself, briefly, I think, nodding. "Yeah, that was him. I, um, I didn't think he had any plans to leave London."

Corey shrugs as the waitress walks over, pencil and notepad in hand. "Apparently the transfer was pretty abrupt," he says to us, ignoring her completely as she waits to take his order. "It's kind of strange, really. He's been practicing for a while now so he had a lot of different choices for his transfer location. But from what I heard, he insisted on Rosewood." He turns away, glancing indifferently at the waitress. "I'll do a steak, medium rare."

I have possibly never been less attracted to an admittedly good-looking man in my life. But my mind is spinning as I absentmindedly order the first thing I see on the menu. A.D. returned a few days ago, after three months of silence. And now Wren is suddenly leaving London, and maybe even Melissa, to run back to Rosewood?

Something's up. And if I had to guess, I'd say that something has to do with Charlotte…and her death.

I lower my head and grimace. There's only one way that I'm going to be able to get answers about Wren and any potential involvement he has in what's going on around here. So I swallow my pride, force a smile on my face, and put my hand on Corey's arm. "You know, I've actually always found cardiology to be really interesting. I'd love to hear more about what you do."

…

My head is pounding so hard by the time I get home that even the slight scraping sound of my key in the lock makes me wince.

Never before has two hours gone so slowly. I'm pretty sure I know enough about medical school and cardiology that I could become a doctor now myself. I picture Corey's smug smirk and my hand clenches into an instinctive fist. I didn't let him kiss me when he dropped me off, but he does now have my number.

There's nothing I want to do less than go out on another date with that insufferable asshole, especially one without Macy and Michael there to diffuse the tension. But if I want to get any kind of answers about Wren, I need to keep him around for a few months, at the most. I can handle that.

I wonder as I push open the door to my apartment if that makes me just as big of a jerk as Corey. Using him to get to someone else? But at least my bad behavior is actually for a good reason.

Mona's sitting on the couch when I walk inside, her arms folded as she stares up at the TV. "Oh my God, I'm so glad you're home," I breathe, shutting the door and tossing my purse onto the nearest chair. "I just spent two hours with the world's most egotistical – "

She turns off the TV and stands in one abrupt movement, then narrows her eyes and cuts me off with a sharp, "I know you lied to me."

I blink, stepping back. Blood rushes to my head. "Uh, w-what about?"

My sister walks over to stand in front of me, her arms still tightly crossed. "Carpet cleaners? You seriously thought I'd buy that?"

I'm at a loss for words, so I let out an awkward laugh instead, brushing my hair out of my face just for something to do with my hands. "I…uh…I didn't…" She raises her eyebrows, giving me a look that actually makes me a little frightened, so I sigh and relent. "Fine. I lied. I told you there were carpet cleaners coming because I wanted to keep you out of the apartment."

Mona tilts her chin up. Anger is practically radiating off of her. "Why?"

Her voice is low and dark, and reminds me unsettlingly of her days as A. I feel even more now that this is a bad idea, but I can't exactly backtrack now, so I give in, sitting down heavily on the couch. "Because someone trashed it."

She scoffs and sits down as well, though at the kitchen table instead of beside me. "Someone. Save it, Viola. We both know you're talking about A.D."

My stomach clenches. I'd been expecting her to catch on, just maybe not so quickly. "I – I don't…how do you know that?"

"Who else would it be?" Mona says simply, but then rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone. "And I got this text the other day."

She tosses it to me, and I fumble to catch it with shaking hands, fearing the worst. The message on the screen glows up at me, the words looking oddly sinister even before I put them together.

Did you really believe you'd gotten away with murder? Think again, bitch. – A.D.

I lower the phone, my eyes still on the screen. "Oh my God," I exhale. Panic has squeezed itself around my heart. Even though the break-in the other day clued me in on A.D.'s reappearance, this is direct confirmation.

And it's worse than I could have imagined.

"Oh my God," I say again, dropping the phone onto the couch like it'd just burned me. "I can't believe – why didn't you tell me about this?"

"Oh." My sister rolls her eyes, leaning back against the chair. "Right. Just like you told me about the break-in? I'm not the only one keeping secrets around here, Viola."

I wince, partly because of the bite to her words, but mostly because she's right. I really can't be mad. I did the same thing.

The only difference is that I'm not the one who killed Charlotte.

"Okay," I say quietly, my voice shaking as my mind goes over and over that text. I get up from the couch and sit down in the empty seat at the table. "From now on, no secrets. We tell each other everything that's going on. A.D. is back, and…this is bad. Like, really bad." I'm rambling now, my voice rising in pitch. I force myself to take a breath. "I mean…aren't you scared?"

Mona hesitates, shifting uncomfortably. "Of course I am," she mutters finally, looking anywhere but at me. "I'm scared out of my mind."

"So what do we do?" I burst out, leaning my forehead against my hand. I can feel my pulse pounding. "Tell the police?"

She gives me an incredulous look, and I feel stupid even before she starts talking. "Tell the police what? That someone's out for revenge because I impaled Charlotte with a piece of metal?"

"You didn't mean to do it," I protest immediately, but sigh and shake my head. "But you're right. We can't tell the police about A.D. without also telling them about what you did to Charlotte."

"We can't tell anyone," she says firmly. "Especially not Hanna and the rest of the Scooby Doo gang. I was so close to cracking this thing three months ago, until they all got involved and messed everything up."

My heart sinks at her words. "Um, well…"

She narrows her eyes at me. "What?"

"I told them," I blurt out, then hastily go on before she has the chance to murder me. "I didn't know what else to do, okay? I didn't want to upset you like that right after you got home from the hospital, but I needed to get advice from someone." I roll my eyes and fold my arms. "But you don't have to worry about anyone getting involved. They don't seem to want to believe that A.D. is really back."

"Fine. Just don't tell them anything more," Mona sighs, sitting back and thankfully looking pacified. "Especially not Alison."

A jolt of surprise runs through me. "What do you mean? What about Alison?" She hesitates, glancing at me shiftily, so I frown and raise my eyebrows. "No more secrets, sis."

My sister looks for a moment like she's considering whether or not to flee, but finally huffs and pushes her chair back from the table. "You and Hanna weren't the only ones who visited me at Welby."

Even though her tone is dark, I'm flooded with curiosity, and also, strangely, a little bit of relief. "Really?" I ask, pleased with the thought until I remember her earlier comment. "Wait, Alison – "

"Not Alison," Mona says, and stands abruptly. She walks into her bedroom, and before I can even make a move to follow, she returns with her laptop and a slim black flash drive. "Jenna."

The thought of Alison paying my sister visits at the hospital was alarming, but the image of Jenna doing so is somehow worse. "I…why? Isn't she just teaching at Rosewood now? What would she want to talk to you about?"

"Actually, she wasn't very interested in talking." Mona sticks the flash drive into the laptop, and I pull my chair around to see the screen. "She gave me this and told me to watch it as soon as possible. So that night I snuck out of my room and plugged it into the computer at the nurse's station."

The drive's contents appear on the screen – just one video file. She clicks on it and presses play.

It's a shaky video that appears to have been taken from the bushes, aiming through the partway-open window. I squint, sitting on my hands and leaning closer. "That looks like…what, some kind of doctor's office?"

"Shh," Mona says, nodding toward the screen just as someone begins to speak, the voice slightly muffled through the mostly-closed window.

"So? Did you work it out?"

A girl with long blond hair walks into the room, standing directly in front of the window and folding her arms as she watches someone out of view. It takes me a moment to recognize her as a very young-looking Alison. I raise my eyebrows. She couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen when this video was taken.

"I made some calls," someone responds. Maybe it's because of his accented voice, or maybe it's because he's been on my mind all night, but I know who it is even before he steps into the room and shoots Alison a slightly crooked smile.

Wren.


	6. Chapter 6

"Alison knew Wren?" I gasp out loud, clapping a hand to my mouth.

"Be quiet," my sister hisses, turning up the volume on the computer. "That's not all."

I'm already pretty blown away, but I clench my teeth and force down any other questions, watching intently as Wren walks over to Ali. "You know I can't make any guarantees. But I'm going to do everything possible to help you."

They're standing so close together that I wonder if I'm about to find out that Alison was having another torrid love affair the summer that she went missing. But then she brushes past him, her blonde curls bouncing against her back as she crosses the room. Whoever's taking the video shifts to get a better view, and the camera shakes with the movement. I wince, the effect making me a little motion sick.

"It has to happen," Ali says firmly, and I'm taken aback by the note of fear in her voice. As much as she seems to love crying and playing the victim now, the fifteen-year-old Ali that I remember was fearless. There was nothing she hated more than anyone seeing even a glimmer of weakness in her.

So whatever she's talking about, it must be serious.

"And I'm doing my best to make it happen," Wren says patiently, sticking his hands in the pockets of his white lab coat. "But there's only so much I can do as a student. I want you to remember that there are other options, Alison. This isn't the only – "

"You don't understand." Ali whirls around. The part of her face that I can see is bright red. She looks uncharacteristically unhinged, out of control. "I don't have any other choice. I can't just go home and raise a baby."

"I wish you would tell me why that is," Wren says, moving toward her. He reaches out to touch her arm, but she pulls away sharply. "If this is about someone you're afraid of, I can – "

"No," she snaps. "It's nothing. Just…" She pulls a pen out of her purse and leans down, scribbling something onto the thin protective paper that covers the exam table. "Call me at this number when you have an answer for me. Tell me what day to be here. I'll pay in cash."

"Will do," Wren says quietly, looking hesitant as he glances down at the number. He watches as Alison hitches her purse higher on her shoulder and stalks toward the door. Just after she's out of sight of the camera, he tenses his shoulders and calls, "Just remember to think this through, Alison. An abortion is a very big decision to make."

The screen goes black, but I continue to stare. My eyes have gone dry and I'm aware that I need to blink, but my brain feels incapable of even carrying out that simple movement.

Abortion.

I slowly shut the laptop and turn to face my sister. I should have a million questions, but I can only think of one. "Why – "

"I don't know why Jenna had that video, or why she gave it to me," Mona says grimly, reading my mind. "But apparently it's important enough that she thought I needed to see it."

I lean forward and rest my elbow on the table, grimacing a little as the floodgates in my brain finally open. Questions and inconsistencies start to rush through my head, too quickly for me to collect my thoughts. She sits back, watching me process this until I finally announce the obvious. "Alison was pregnant."

Mona nods, looking down, and I suddenly realize why I'm having trouble connecting the dots. "But wait, the – the diary entries," I stammer, waving my hands in front of my face like that's going to help me figure this out. "She wrote that she just had a pregnancy scare in Cape May, that she wasn't actually – "

"She wasn't. This was different."

I wrinkle my nose, my hands falling back into my lap. "How can you tell?"

"Hold on." Mona opens the computer again and restarts the video, pausing before Ali even enters the office. She presses a few keys and the screen zooms in, focusing in on a poster on the wall. A few more clever keystrokes and the words on the poster become sharp and clear – ST. PETER'S HOSPITAL SLEEP STUDY.

"I've been looking into this since I got out of Welby," my sister says, studying the screen intently. There's an expression of intensity on her face that makes me a little uneasy. "It's a hospital a few hours outside of Pittsburgh…one that thankfully didn't encrypt their online patient records very well."

I perk up, raising my eyebrows. "You found Alison's file?"

She nods and pulls the laptop closer. I can't see what she's doing, but a few moments later she turns it back around to face me. The video on the screen has been replaced by a PDF file, titled "DARKBLOOM, VIVIAN."

I lean closer, squinting to read the small, crammed blocky print. I skim over her personal information, all fake, of course, focusing on her records. She did come to this hospital to have an abortion, and the date of the procedure is listed under the unfamiliar name of the doctor who performed it.

"January 18, 2010," I gasp. "This happened after Alison disappeared."

"She really was pregnant that summer," Mona confirms, looking at me darkly. "But she went to Cape May in June. She would've been too far along for an abortion by January. This had to have happened a few months later."

My leg twitches under the table. I leap up, pacing back and forth between the kitchen and the living room. "This is…insane. Oh my god, what do we do about this?"

She stands as well, crossing her arms and looking thoughtfully toward the window. "Well, obviously the first question is who took this video, and why is it important?"

"Who was the father?" I add, leaning against the kitchen counter. "And why did Ali keep this a secret?"

"Maybe she didn't. Maybe she just didn't tell us."

"Possible," I say with a shrug, just as my phone chimes. I grab it off of the counter and glance at Hanna's message on the screen.

Come to the barn as soon as you get this. It's important.

"That's weird," I blurt out, checking the time on my phone. It's after eleven at night. What could be going on now?

Mona looks up from where she'd been analyzing Alison's medical file once again. "What?"

"I've been summoned to Spencer's barn," I answer, rolling my eyes and grabbing my purse from where I dumped it on the chair by the door. "And you're coming with me. Let's go."

…

The barn is completely lit up when we walk around the side of the Hastings' house ten minutes later. The front door is open, so I walk right in, my sister at my heels. A crowd awaits us: Emily and Alison are sitting on the couch, clutching each other's hands. Aria is perched on the arm beside them, and Ezra is standing behind her, his hand on her shoulder. Hanna and Caleb are huddled close together by the fireplace, and Spencer is a few feet away from them, her eyes on her phone. Everyone is either staring at the ground or shooting glances at each other, their foreheads creased and their mouths turned down.

It's not a pretty picture, and my stomach turns.

"Hi?" I say uncertainly when no one looks up.

Eyes turn toward me, and then slightly to my left. Hanna steps forward. Emily's brow furrows even more. Aria pales, and Spencer's mouth drops open. Caleb looks a little like he's about to breathe fire.

Mona tenses, looking both defensive and unsure. "Hi," she says quietly, and I realize that aside from Hanna, this is the first any of them have seen her since that night at the Lost Woods.

"Um," Spencer says with a disbelieving laugh, looking at a loss for words.

"Viola," Emily says slowly, half-standing and then lowering herself back down. "I don't know if…" She trails off uncomfortably. Alison squeezes her hand, shifting in her seat. I want to pin her against the wall and demand answers about the video I just saw. All of the unknowns are beginning to drive me crazy, especially this late at night.

But just as it seems like Emily is getting the courage to continue, Caleb throws out his arms and yells, "What the hell is she doing here?"

"She is standing right here," Mona says, narrowing her eyes. All of the hesitation is long gone now. "And you can like me or not, Caleb, but I'm not going anywhere."

"Whatever," Spencer bursts out, much to my surprise, considering she's usually one of my sister's biggest dissenters. "There's something – "

"You know what? No," Caleb cuts her off. He stalks over to us, his face contorted with anger.

Hanna steps toward him. "Caleb – "

"No," he says again, whirling around to face her. "Look, I agreed to you driving her to appointments because I was trying to be understanding. But showing up here, getting all involved in our business again? No way. No freaking way."

I can feel my anger beginning to boil over – I get that he and Mona have had their problems in the past, but does he really have to have this temper tantrum every time he's in the same room as her? – and force it down with the most condescending smile I can muster, because sometimes, even in stressful situations, I like to have a little fun. "What's wrong? You miss your nap today or something?"

He looks between the two of us for a second, his face reddening. "I don't even get why you were invited over here," he says heatedly to me, then juts his chin in my sister's direction, "but she wasn't, and I'm not dealing with this again. If she won't leave, I will. Come on." He grabs Hanna's hand and tugs her toward the door to the barn. "Let's get out of here."

Hanna stands firm, pulling her arm away. "Caleb, no. Just play nice, alright? Spencer's right. This is important."

I wonder once again with a flutter of nerves what I was actually called here to discuss, but my eyes are on Caleb as he reels back, staring at Hanna. He flits his gaze over to Mona for a brief second, then looks back and shakes his head. "I'll see you at home," he mutters, and lets the door bang shut behind him.

A terse silence falls over the room. I wring my hands together behind my back, unsettled. Jesus. Three months of marriage and this is how it's going? The husband storming out over a petty high school grudge, leaving his wife behind, twisting her wedding ring anxiously around her finger?

Spencer clears her throat and breaks the silence. "Um, you know, maybe…maybe he's right. Viola, I'm sorry, but I'm not so sure if…"

She trails off and I scowl. I'm getting really sick of everyone leaving their uncomfortable sentences unfinished. Mona opens her mouth, clearly ready to retort, but I beat her to it, linking our arms together and snapping, "Listen, I already filled her in on everything that's going on." I almost bring up the text, but glance at Alison and decide to keep that to myself, at least for now. "We're a package deal. Either tell us both to get out, or accept Mona's help."

"I'd go with the second option," she adds smoothly, giving me a quick, appreciative smile. "I've saved your collective asses before and it's a safe bet I'll be able to do it again."

Spencer's mouth twists into a pinched frown. "Whoa, whoa, wait a – "

Alison suddenly stands, lacing her hands together over her stomach. Emily gazes up at her attentively, in that same concerned puppy dog way she's looked at her since she found out about the pregnancy, and my gut twinges with sympathy for her. I'd just been starting to come around to the idea of Ali and Emily's relationship, but she deserves better than being lied to for weeks on end…especially about something like this.

I look at Ali with narrowed eyes, sure she's going to point both my sister and myself toward the door, but she smiles shakily and cuts Spencer off. "Stay. Both of you."

Emily jumps to her feet as well. "Ali…" she murmurs, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.

"We need their help," Alison replies firmly. She smiles at me, more confidently this time, then gives Mona a meaningful look. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to get over what you did to Charlotte. I get why you did it, and I know it was an accident, but…she was the only family I had left. But I'm trying."

My sister smiles back at her and lowers her gaze, looking kind of uncomfortable. I know how she feels. Every time I look at Ali these days, I just find myself more confused than ever. I've never known what to make of that girl, but this is a whole new level of conflicted feelings.

Aria sighs, jiggling her foot nervously against the floor. "Can we move on now, please?" Ezra squeezes her shoulder, nodding. I realize that he hasn't said one word since we got here. It's refreshing, but kind of strange coming from him.

Hanna shoots one more wistful look toward the door that Caleb slammed, but shakes her head and mumbles, "Yeah."

"Okay, can someone just tell us what's going on?" I burst out, anxious all over again as their expressions morph back into subdued fear. "You're all kind of starting to freak me out."

Mona folds her arms. "Is it A.D.?"

Spencer clutches her phone between both hands and steps forward. Her face has gone pale. "No. It's Mary. She broke out of prison tonight."


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, I'm wiping down the mysteriously sticky countertop behind the register when a coffee cup held by a very well-manicured hand thumps down in my line of vision. "When you said you couldn't drive Mona to Welby this morning because you had to go to work at the Brew, I thought you were joking," Hanna says, cocking an eyebrow at the rag in my hand.

I push my hair out of my face and grin. "Nope. I'm living the dream."

She wrinkles her nose, gazing around like this is a garbage dump and not the place where she and her friends spent just about every morning in high school. "Why do you need to work here?"

"Because money doesn't grow on trees, and there isn't exactly a market for social workers around here," I reply. A woman carrying a Chanel bag that's about as big as she is steps up behind Hanna, and I tilt my head toward her. "Hanna."

"Oh," she says, glancing back at the customer but not moving. "Wait, when do you go on break?"

I check my watch. "About twenty minutes."

"I'll wait," she declares, and stalks over to the other end of the room.

I serve a few more coffee orders, words like espresso shot and drip and light roast running through my head as I desperately try not to make a mistake on my third day on the job. Once I hand the last order to a harried looking businessman in a rumpled shirt and slightly stained tie, I stuff my apron behind the counter and join Hanna by the bookshelves.

"So," I say under my breath, sliding into the chair across the table from her, "any news on Mary?"

Hanna sets down her phone and glances over her shoulder, then shakes her head. "Nothing. Spencer's a wreck. I offered to stay with her last night but she said she didn't want her pacing to keep me up."

The hair on the back of my neck rises. I feel like I'm back in high school all over again, peering over my shoulder at every turn. First A.D. is back out in the world, and now Mary. What next, is Archer Dunhill going to rise from his grave? Am I going to find the board game sitting my living room when I get home?

"Do you think she escaped, or…?" I trail off, gesturing vaguely.

I'm not even really sure where I was going with that, but Hanna seems to get it. "All they told Spencer is that when they did ten o'clock rounds, her cell door was open and the window at the end of the hall was broken."

"I mean, I know she turned herself in so you guys wouldn't go down for it," I whisper, wiping off a smudge on the table with my thumb, "but maybe she decided prison wasn't worth it. Maybe she couldn't take it anymore and just…fled."

"So you think this has nothing to do with us? That she's just gonna disappear out of our lives forever?" Hanna snorts. "God, I wish I had your optimism."

"Well, after what she did for you guys at least we can be relatively sure that she's not a bad person," I try to reason. "So if she broke out on her own will, she's probably not going to come after any of us."

Hanna taps her nails against the table, looking distressed. Then she raises her eyes to mine and asks quietly, "But what if she didn't?"

I swallow hard and look away. It wouldn't be the first time that an A managed to break into the county prison. But actually breaking someone out? Is that even possible?

You'd think I'd know better than to ask that question by now.

But I promised Mona that I wouldn't bring up A.D. to any of the girls, so I clear my throat and change the subject. "How, um…did you work things out with Caleb last night?"

Hanna smiles thinly, but she won't meet my eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, um, everything's…everything's fine." She hesitates, then adds, "I'm sorry about…you know, what he said. He was way out of line."

"It's not your fault," I say immediately, half-smiling in return. "I get that he and Mona will always hate each other, I just wish he could keep those thoughts to himself once in a while. It's getting kind of old, you know?"

Hanna raises her eyebrows and nods. She looks irritated, although I have a feeling it's not with me. "Trust me, I do. But it really wasn't even about you guys. Honestly, he was in a bad mood before Spencer even texted us to come over."

I know it's none of my business, but I'm so relieved to be talking about something not related to A – something normal – that I lean my elbows on the table and frown. "Is everything okay with you guys?"

She's silent for a long moment, picking quietly at her manicure. I study her face, but I can't read her expression. "You don't have to tell me," I blurt out quickly, feeling my face flush. What was I thinking? Hanna may have been like family once, but that was a long time ago. There's no way she's going to start spilling all of her marital problems to me now, not after everything.

But to my surprise, she lifts her eyes and sighs. "No, it's fine. It's just, Caleb…he's been talking about having a baby."

My eyes widen. "Oh. Wow." I picture Hanna holding a newborn, a little baby girl wearing a pink bow headband. It's actually a cute image. Then I picture the baby spitting up all over the front of one of her custom-made dresses and think I understand why she's not smiling now. "And, um…you're not…you're not into the idea?"

"I don't know," Hanna admits, running her finger along a groove in the wooden table. "I've always daydreamed about the two of us having all these beautiful babies, and they'd wear clothes I designed for them while Caleb taught them how to be all techy, but…"

I grin at the picture she's painted, but my smile fades when I see just how conflicted she looks. This is clearly something she's been struggling with for a while. "The reality doesn't seem so glamorous?" I suggest gently.

She stretches her left hand out flat on the table, gazing down at her wedding ring. "I want to focus on my career," she declares suddenly, her voice strong. "I came so far with Lucas a few months ago, I can't…just throw all that away."

"Then you need to tell him that," I insist, covering her hand with my own. "You're only twenty-four. You guys have plenty of time for kids. And if Caleb really loves you, he'll understand. He can wait."

Hanna smiles sadly, blinking back a few tears. Then she squeezes my hand. "Thanks."

"Let me know how things go," I say, and rise, glancing at the clock by the bookshelves. "I have to get back to work."

Hanna gets up as well, slinging her purse over her shoulder. "Yeah, it's almost noon," she says in her usual light, careless tone, all traces of those complex emotions gone from her face. "I should head back out to Welby."

"You're a lifesaver!" I yell over my shoulder as I slip back behind the front counter.

Aside from a few teenage girls giggling over one of their phones across the room, the Brew is empty, so I pull out my phone as I brace myself for the oncoming lunch rush.

The screen lights up with a text from my sister from this morning, after I left for work but before Hanna picked her up for therapy. It's a photo with no accompanying message. I open it, wondering if I even want to know.

It's a screenshot of the board of directors list from St. Peter's Hospital's website. I roll my eyes. Why can't Mona ever just give it a rest? But after glancing up to make sure no customers are waiting, I turn away from the counter and scan over the list of names.

It takes me a few moments to make the connection, because no name immediately jumps out at me. But then I focus on one in particular, about a third of the way down, and realize that it's familiar.

Dianne Fitzgerald.

…

"Okay, can I just say again that I'm really, really not comfortable with this? You realize that if we get caught, we're screwed, right? You're not allowed to get a job right now and it's not like anyone else in this town is going to hire me if they found out I stole from my boss."

"Oh, calm down, Viola," Mona says dismissively, leaning against the counter as I pull out the little drawer from behind the desk and begin rooting through the nearly identical-looking keys inside. "You're not stealing anything. You're going to put it right back."

I give her an annoyed look, locating the spare key to the loft above the Brew and folding my hand around it. "Whatever, it's still a crime. How are you so sure Ezra or Aria isn't going to come home and catch us, anyway?"

She swipes the key from my hand and heads for the stairs leading to the loft without hesitation. "I don't think we'll have to worry about them," she says in a singsong.

I grab her arm. "Oh my God, what did you do?"

"Don't pop a blood vessel, they're fine. I happened to find out that the two lovebirds went looking at honeymoon suites at the Radley tonight. I can turn the power back on in the elevator as soon as we're finished."

I shake my head, trying frantically, as usual, to keep up with her quick, vague way of speaking. Once I come to terms with the idea of Aria and Ezra trapped in the hotel's elevator, Mona has pushed open the apartment's door.

I put my hand out to stop her from going inside, panicking again. "Wait. Are you absolutely sure about this? There are probably a million Dianne Fitzgerald's in the world. How do you know this one's Ezra's mother?"

My sister sighs like she just can't believe she has to deal with this. "I did a lot more research than just that one website, Viola. I found pictures, donations. It's her." Without waiting for a response she saunters into the loft, so I take a deep breath and follow, still unsure about this.

The apartment is much neater than the messy bachelor pad I broke into several times while on the A team in high school – Aria's influence, I assume. But the same clunky typewriter sits on the desk in the corner, the same old couches take up the center of the room, and the same old literature posters are still taped to the walls.

"God, they really are perfect for each other," I mutter. Pretentiousness is practically coming off of this place in waves. "Okay, what are we looking for, anyway?"

"Nothing specific," Mona says slowly, opening the top dresser drawer and beginning to root around expertly. "Just anything that might link Ezra to the good doctor."

"I'm what your psychiatrist would probably call an 'enabler,'" I say, only half-joking, and walk over to the desk. I kneel down in front of it and pull out the bottom drawer. "Aria lives here too, remember?" I go on as I lift out a stack of what appear to be old, dusty screenplays. "If Ezra had some shady connection to Wren back then, do you really think he'd keep record of it where she could find it?"

"You never saw the amount of research that Ezra accumulated," she replies immediately, clearly having given this some thought. "There's no way he got rid of every page. All we need is one little scrap that proves Ezra's still lying about that summer, and we might be able to shut this thing down before it even really starts again."

I scrunch up my nose as I replace the screenplays and move on to the next drawer, sliding it open cautiously. It's only a matter of time before I come across something I really don't need to see. "So you think Ezra's A.D.?" I ask, rifling through what appears to be a pile of random junk.

"I think Jenna gave me that video for a reason."

"I mean, I guess. But we know that Ezra and Ali were having a fling that summer, so it's not that unreasonable to think that…" The weight of my obliviousness hits me somewhere around the word "summer," and I trail off, blurting out instead of finishing the thought, "Ezra was the father, wasn't he?"

"Wow, hun, you sure catch on quick," Mona says under her breath, still feeling around inside the dresser drawers.

I chew on my lip, lost in thought as I lower myself down onto the edge of the bed. Then I realize where I am and leap back to my feet with a little yelp. Ick. "That would explain why Alison never told anyone," I say shakily, suddenly feeling uncomfortable even being in this room. "She was fifteen, that's sick."

"Yes, we're all very disgusted by Ezra here, but unless you want both him and Aria to spend the night in an elevator, keep looking," my sister says sharply.

I roll my eyes but kneel down and move aside the edge of the bedspread. The bed is high enough off of the ground that I can push myself partway underneath. I do so, holding my breath in the presence of a few socks that look like they haven't seen the light since before Ezra went to South America.

There's nothing hidden under the mattress frame and everything strewn around the floor seems like mostly debris, and I'm about to scoot back out and let out a breath when I notice something hanging down above me. I frown and reach out for it. It's a crumpled piece of paper, jammed between the mattress and the wall. As I dislodge it, I get the feeling that this wasn't hidden here purposefully. It seems like the kind of thing that slipped through the crack long ago and hasn't been seen since.

I heave myself out from under the bed and sit up, glancing at the paper disinterestedly, expecting a stupid poem or a grocery list or something.

"What's that?" my sister asks, glancing over.

"Nothing, just…whoa."

Mona rushes over and kneels down beside me, but I barely notice. My eyes are glued to the paper in my hand as I read over and over the words written in neat, slanted handwriting.

Ian – Spencer and Hanna

Garrett – Emily and Aria

Jason – X

"What the hell is this?" I ask, waving the paper.

She grabs it from me and stares down at it, then looks back up at me with widening eyes. "It's the N.A.T Club."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I have a bit of this written so far so updates should be relatively frequent (hopefully). And as one last warning, hopefully none of you are too attached to any of the show's endgame ships. As of right now two of them are definitely not happening, and the other two I'm on the fence about - hence no relationship tags so no one gets the wrong idea.


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